Shadows Before Dawn
by Cobrilee
Summary: The explicit ending you didn't get from my story Joy in the Mourning. This is a direct continuation of that story and some stuff won't make sense if you haven't already read it.


**A/N: In case you skimmed the summary, this is a direct continuation of my story Joy in the Mourning. If you haven't read that already, there are going to be many parts of this that don't make sense. If you don't care about that and just want to read the smut, well, then enjoy. ;)**

Stiles inhaled on a shuddery breath at the fiercely possessive look burning in Derek's eyes, the look that claimed him, that called him _mate_. There were times he actually kind of forgot that Derek was a werewolf, as the supernatural hadn't invaded their lives on a regular basis since before the twins had been born. Derek had settled into the role of omega and Stiles and Lydia had moved on with their lives, their marriage and their family. Stiles missed it sometimes, but as a responsible husband and father, he was grateful that the people he loved weren't consistently in danger.

Now, however, he was reminded-vividly so-that his best friend and the man he loved was a werewolf. Derek nosed at him, nudging for Stiles to tilt his head to the side so he could inhale deeply, scenting along the pale column of his throat until his lips pressed against Stiles' shoulder. He couldn't help the shivers that wracked his body at the feather-light touch of Derek's nose and lips skimming his sensitive skin. He felt the curve of Derek's mouth against his neck, his thick scruff deliciously scratchy and rubbing him raw in a way that Stiles was eager to see-and feel-the next day.

He reveled in the sensation of Derek's lips moving over his chest, nibbling and sucking across his collarbone, getting slightly light-headed when Derek pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat and moved up to his jaw. Before he knew it he was threading his fingers through the thick black hair and tugging insistently, pulling Derek's head up so their mouths could align. When Derek rose back to his full height he slanted his lips over Stiles', nipping at them. He caught the lower one between his teeth and tugged, the movement somewhere between gentle and demanding.

Stiles groaned at the fire blazing across his skin, everywhere Derek's lips landed. Part of him was impatient and wanted to push Derek down, to claim him the same way the wolf had claimed him, to tease and torment and _take_ , and give, and take some more, but the other part of him wanted just this, just for a minute. It had been so long and he'd missed it more than he'd ever allowed himself to understand, or even recognize, and he just wanted to feel Derek's mouth on him a little bit longer.

When Derek's hands went to the hem of his amethyst-colored button-down, however, tugging it impatiently from his charcoal slacks (not the most comfortable thing to travel in, but he wasn't a heathen-he didn't want to show up at Melania's door wearing faded jeans and his old Batman tee), he reassessed his plans and nodded agreeably at Derek's clear intentions to move things along. Exhaling shakily, Stiles' hands came up to cover Derek's, their fingers slipping and sliding through the other's as they fumbled to get the buttons from their stubborn holes. Stiles was ready to swear tiny little elves had gone to work on his shirt while he napped fitfully on the plane, sewing them that much tighter so they would be impossible to undo.

With an impatient growl, Derek gave up trying and simply grabbed the collar, yanking to the side with one abrupt motion and scattering buttons all over the hardwood flooring. Stiles wanted to toss out a teasing jab at Derek's completely stereotypical aggression, but the words burned up in his mouth as a rush of fire raced through his veins, and he honest-to-God _moaned_ , heat flaring in his cheeks when he realized how wanton he sounded.

Derek ducked his head to press hot kisses to the strip of pale skin that appeared right above his white undershirt, and Stiles could feel his lips curve up in amusement. Forestalling any mortifying comments on his eagerness, Stiles wound his fingers back through Derek's hair and held him close. He could feel his mouth relax as Derek continued to suck at the tender skin, bringing the blood just to the surface and then moving on.

Stiles basked in the feeling of Derek thoroughly worshipping him with only his lips but eventually he became impatient, needing more, needing it _now_ , and he pushed at Derek's chest. They broke apart, both panting as they took a moment to inhale much-needed oxygen. "Now it's your turn," Stiles murmured huskily, and Derek's eyes clouded in confusion.

"It was already my turn," he protested.

Eyes twinkling, Stiles spread his hands over Derek's chest and stepped forward, forcing him to back up, taking one step after another toward the couch that sprawled across half the gigantic living room. When he was finally standing in front of it, Stiles curled his palms over Derek's shoulders and pressed gently, guiding him down to the couch before sinking to his knees. Derek exhaled on a low groan, his head tipping back into the plush garnet-colored fabric while his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

Lifting his head back up, he eyed Stiles avariciously, gaze taking in every minute detail of the beloved face with the practically-glowing amber eyes, the smattering of moles that matched his chocolate-colored hair, the impish grin that beamed out at him. "You're going to destroy me tonight, aren't you?" he recognized, his words faint, but hopeful.

Stiles popped up off of the floor, throwing one leg over Derek's lap and settling into it playfully, rocking his hips forward while he looped his arms around Derek's neck. "More than once, if you're lucky," he teased, his voice low as if he was confiding something in secret, the same bright smile stretched across his whole face.

The hesitation that clouded Derek's eyes reminded Stiles that Derek probably didn't consider himself lucky. He'd spent his entire adult life dealing with heartbreak, loss, and disappointment in one way or another, and Stiles had been just another example. Twice, probably, if his self-imposed isolation was any indication of his current mental state. Leaning forward, Stiles cradled Derek's strong jaw in his hands, his thumbs lightly brushing the beard Derek had let grow in over the last several weeks. He firmly tilted Derek's chin so that he couldn't look down to avoid Stiles' eyes, waiting until that green-gold-gray gaze was locked solidly on his own. "I know we have a lot to talk about, Der. This isn't going to be quick or easy, and I know it as much as you do. It's going to be a work in progress and it's going to take time, and patience, and a lot of love. But we have all of that. And tonight, I don't want to talk."

Derek exhaled on a rough, deep groan when Stiles's thighs clamped down on his, his erection pressing tightly against the wolf's. "You know how I feel about talking anyway," he breathed, lifting his hips to return the pressure.

His arms found their way back around Derek's neck andiHH Stiles sighed happily, eyes shining like stars. "I thought you might like my plan." Dipping his head, his lips slid along Derek's as the tip of his tongue traced the seam of his mouth. It parted easily, allowing Stiles deeper access, and he wasted no time in pressing forward. Tongues slipped and slid over each other, stroking, curling around the other, and both Stiles and Derek were content to allow the other to explore. It had been more than eight years since they'd last kissed like this, and the sensation was both wonderfully new and achingly familiar.

Derek's hands stole their way around Stiles' waist, settling into place as if they belonged there, and Stiles squirmed in his lap, trying to get closer to everything. The hands that gripped him tightly, the broad chest that was hard and warm and safe, the mouth that claimed his possessively. For the briefest of moments, the sorrow that had wrapped itself around his heart for the past eight months loosened its hold and slipped away. Stiles wasn't fooling himself, he knew it would be back, but for right now, in this moment with Derek, he could allow himself to be happy. And he really, honestly was.

"You're thinking," Derek said as he pulled back, his voice light, but the worried look in his eyes pulled Stiles out of his thoughts.

"I'm thinking that I love you," Stiles returned easily, trying to convey with his own eyes just how true it was. "And that I'm happy."

Derek studied him for a few moments, disbelief and uncertainty warring with hope, and finally he settled into a decision. A slow smile spread across his face, and he stretched up to capture Stiles' lips with his once more. Stiles smiled into the kiss himself, laughing when their teeth crashed into each other's because they couldn't stop grinning, knowing that it wasn't the end of everything that had gotten them to this place. But it was a beginning he could live with.

"You're wearing too many clothes," Derek mumbled against his mouth, and Stiles nodded in agreement.

"You are too," he pointed out, his long fingers plucking at the thin tank top Derek had pulled on after his shower. "I can help with that." Before Derek could say anything, Stiles scrambled off his lap and back onto his knees in front of him, his palms on Derek's knees as he spread them and leaned forward in anxious anticipation.

Derek's eyes were on him as he bent his head, his nose nudging at the hem of Derek's tank and lifting it enough for Stiles to breathe lightly across his heated skin. The warm gust of air hit him unexpectedly and his cock jumped, and Stiles grinned. Moving lower, he grabbed at the waistband of Derek's basketball shorts with his teeth, pulling away and then letting go. The fabric snapped back with a soft pop into Derek's stomach and he growled.

"Stop fucking teasing me," he hissed, trying to be stern and failing utterly. Stiles tilted his head to look up at him in curiosity, and the tense, blissful expression he saw caused a wide smile to spread across his face.

"I like teasing you," he whispered, his voice a throaty, wicked purr, and Derek looked absolutely _wrecked_.

He'd seen the man in front of him being tortured on more than one occasion. Mostly all he'd ever done was glower mutinously and maybe snarl every now and then to show he wouldn't be broken. But now, _now_ he looked as if he would spill any secret he had in order to just get Stiles' mouth on him. The power was heady and he wondered, not for the first time, how the two of them had ever managed to get past their initial mistrust and misgivings about the other to get to this place. Alternatively, he wondered how they had ever been anything but the best of friends. Their bond, their love for each other, the desire that had killed him for years before Derek finally fucking acted on it, was so encapsulating that it seemed inconceivable that there had ever been anything else.

Stiles hooked his fingers in the edges of Derek's shorts and Derek immediately cooperated by lifting his hips so Stiles could tug them down. His eyes widened ravenously when he realized Derek had foregone any kind of underwear and his thick, flushed cock was suddenly on display. Stiles groaned and he hurriedly finished removing the shorts and tossed them... somewhere. They'd find them eventually.

Now, however, he had eyes for nothing but the man who had destroyed him in more ways than one, and who he knew would always be there to pull him from the wreckage. They'd been so young then, not ready for what was there between them, but life had guided them back to each other and he knew without a doubt that neither of them would waste this second chance.

"I love you," he breathed again, needing Derek to hear it, to know it, to _believe_ it. This wasn't just about sex or moving on from mourning.

"Are you talking to me, or my dick?" Derek asked in amusement, and Stiles couldn't help the snort that propelled his face even closer to the object in question. He gave the weeping head a decisive lick and Derek groaned, his fingers clenching into the fabric of the couch.

Stiles lifted his gaze back to Derek's and grinned impishly. "Can't it be both?" he teased, and Derek tried to scowl but it slipped away when Stiles wrapped his hand around the hard length and stroked upward, eyes never leaving Derek's.

"You're going to be the death of me," he rasped, breath heaving on a ragged inhale, and Stiles felt his own cock respond to the beginnings of Derek's loss of control. They'd barely even gotten started, and he had so much more planned.

Dropping his head, he dispensed with any foreplay and went straight to sucking that long, thick shaft into his mouth, battling back a triumphant grin when Derek's hips bucked and he let out a low, helpless moan as the head of his cock hit the back of Stiles' throat. Slowly, unhurriedly, he drew his mouth back up, hollowing his cheeks out to create a sweet pressure around the sensitized skin. He let the head escape from his mouth with a pronounced pop before angling again to lick a stripe up the vein on the underside with the tip of his tongue. Derek's hips were straining toward him, no shame in his blissed-out expression, and it took Stiles back more than eight years. Derek had never had any control when it came to Stiles and sex, and it looked as if that hadn't changed one bit.

The room was silent but for the harsh sounds of Derek panting while Stiles worked his magic on him. His fist was closed around the base of Derek's erection as he slowly slid back down, taking in nearly the entirety of his length before easing back off. He alternated with long, thorough licks and little flickers of the tip of his tongue across the head of Derek's now-purple cock, coating his tongue in the bitter-salt taste of precome and enjoying it immensely.

"Stop," Derek grunted, pushing Stiles away from him when he came up for air. Stiles sat back on his heels, watching Derek with a puzzled expression on his face. "It's been awhile," he said by way of explanation. "I don't want to lose control five minutes in."

Stiles grinned broadly. "We have the whole night together. If you think I'm only getting you off once, you're sadly mistaken."

Derek dropped his head back on the couch with a pained sigh. "I'm approaching thirty-five, Stiles. I don't have as much stamina as I used to."

"You're a werewolf," he scoffed. "Age isn't, like, an issue with you guys. Trust me, Scott brags about it all the time."

Derek's nose wrinkled, presumably at the idea of thinking about Scott and Kira's sex life. "Maybe I don't want to take that chance," he replied. "Trust me, the blowjob was amazing, but I want more. Just in case I'm one-and-done for tonight."

Shrugging, Stiles stood up and shifted his shoulders, allowing his dress shirt to slip off them and slide down his arms, leaving him in a white undershirt and slacks. Derek's eyes roamed him greedily, taking in the unusual sight of him dressed up, since normally he was either in jeans or his uniform for work. His hands went to his belt, but then Derek was leaning forward, batting them away so he could work the thin strip of leather from the buckle with fingers that were suddenly shaking and fumbling.

The soft snick of leather through metal unexpectedly became an intensely erotic sound, and Stiles could feel himself lengthening and thickening as his southern parts finally became aware of Derek's hands hovering just a hairsbreadth away. Inhaling sharply, he reached out to place his hands on Derek's shoulders so he could steady himself. Derek paused, glancing up with a wicked grin on his face, and as the waistband of his slacks loosened and began to slip down, Derek's hand found its way inside his boxer-briefs and palmed him.

Stiles' chin dropped forward and he trembled, arching into Derek's firm, yet gentle, touch. His hips rocked involuntarily and a soft keening noise emitted from the back of his throat, embarrassing him a little. It wasn't like it wasn't completely obvious how much he wanted this, but the uncontrollable sounds he was making were more than a little desperate. Derek smiled knowingly and pressed his hand harder into Stiles' groin, his palm and deft fingers working Stiles to full hardness while his other hand tugged at his pant leg, pulling the material down over his hips and ass to pool in a puddle at his feet.

Derek's head descended until his mouth was just a breath away from Stiles' underwear-clad cock, nosing at the outline of his shaft through the thin cloth, then mouthing at it. The flat of his tongue caressed the hard length, causing the material to cling damply, and Stiles' head was spinning. "I'm going to fall over if you keep that up," he muttered, and Derek winked up at him.

"Maybe we should get you into a seated position, then," he murmured back, and before Stiles knew what was happening, Derek had yanked down his briefs and tugged Stiles into his lap, straddling him so that his knees were pressed to the outside of Derek's thighs. Their cocks rubbed together and Stiles shuddered above him, his head dipping until his chin was pressed nearly into his chest as he took quick, unsteady breaths. Derek tilted his hips up just a little, lower lip catching between his teeth as he ground them into Stiles', creating friction between their erections.

"Derek, Jesus," Stiles breathed, his hands finding purchase on Derek's broad shoulders and his fingers digging into the corded muscles just beneath the warm, smooth skin. He rocked forward, feeling the blood rushing through his body to his lower extremities and reveling in the sensation. "I want you inside me so badly right now, you have no fucking idea."

Derek's strong fingers bit into his hips and Stiles could feel from the tremble in his thighs that he was restraining himself from thrusting up helplessly. "Then let me," he groaned roughly, and Stiles blinked.

"I want this to feel good, Der. Going in dry isn't going to accomplish that," he pointed out wryly.

Derek shook his head. "Melania had this place equipped with everything I might need," he rasped out. " _Everything._ There's lube in the nightstand."

Stiles' eyes brightened and his eyes drifted over to the bed, mentally bemoaning the fact that he would have to crawl off Derek's lap and make his way over to the nightstand that suddenly seemed as if it was the length of a football field away. Flicking a glance from Derek to the nightstand and back, he tried to decide if maybe they could just get by with a lot of spit.

"Just go get the damn lube, Stiles," Derek huffed, a hint of a grin ghosting across his face before Stiles clambered off his lap, one knee gouging him rather uncomfortably.

Stiles was across the room and back in what seemed to be a split-second, easing back into Derek's lap with his prize in hand. Derek had taken the opportunity to shed his battered tank top, leaving him gloriously nude, his hair-roughened skin on total display. Stiles forgot about his desire to have Derek buried inside him, at least for the moment, and shimmied until he was seated beside the wolf. Leaning forward, he allowed his lips to skim over the broad expanse of Derek's chest, traveling aimlessly over the firm planes of tight, shifting muscles. He drew upward, leaving damp patches across Derek's abs as his tongue traced the lines of his ribs, until his nose brushed over one of the other man's taut nipples. Derek jumped slightly, hissing out a guttural sound when Stiles' teeth closed over it, nipping and sucking and laving it tenderly in turns.

"Stiles, this is going to be over before it begins if you don't stop that," Derek warned him in a tight voice, and Stiles drew back, pouting.

"I haven't had my mouth on you in more than eight years," he grumbled. "Excuse me for wanting to enjoy the moment."

"It's only going to _be_ 'a moment' if you keep enjoying it that much," Derek retorted. His hands found the edge of Stiles' undershirt and yanked upward, pulling it over Stiles' head and smiling fondly at the sight of his mussed hair as it emerged from the thin white cloth. "Where'd that lube go?"

Stiles grinned, the expression on his face impish. "Well, I know where it's _going_ to go," he began slyly, and Derek rolled his eyes.

"You never could take sex seriously," he sighed, half-exasperated and half-affectionate.

Shrugging, Stiles leaned in and nipped at Derek's lower lip. "Sex is fun," he replied. "Maybe we're not meant to take it seriously."

"Maybe not in general," Derek agreed, tilting his head back so Stiles' mouth could work its way down to his throat, licking and sucking and biting and making him groan and growl and _shudder_. "But this feels like something pretty serious to me."

Stiles slid one leg over Derek's thighs and re-balanced himself so that he was straddling the older man's lap once again. His hands came up to fist in Derek's hair and he tugged until his head was in an upright position and his eyes were locked on Stiles'. "This _is_ serious," he said, his tone solemn. "This is something I never thought I was going to get to have again, and something I'm still afraid I shouldn't be wanting. But I'm going to enjoy every single second of it, and not even you can stop me."

"Never dreamed of trying," he replied, a small smile beginning to curve the outer corners of his mouth. "I just wanted to know…"

"That you're not the only one in the game?" Derek nodded, a look of guilt stamping out the hesitant smile. "Derek, I promise you, I'm in this for real. For both of us. I love you, and no matter what else happens, that never has and never _will_ change. Maybe I won't ask you to move into my room right away, or I won't start introducing you to everyone as my boyfriend, but that doesn't have anything to do with how I feel about you." Derek's eyes flashed a bright, brilliant blue, and Stiles' breath stilled in his chest. "I. Love. You," he repeated, his words low and insistent. "I will remind you of that as often as I need to for you to believe it."

Derek's hands were on his hips in a flash, pulling him in harder, crushing their chests together as Stiles wound his arms around Derek's neck. Their mouths collided, lips and tongue battling impatiently as one of Derek's hands dropped, blindly searching for the bottle of lube Stiles had dropped somewhere on the couch. Stiles jumped and moaned when cool, wet fingers slipped between his cheeks a minute later and began massaging into his tight hole.

"Fuuuuck," he groaned into Derek's ear, and his cock twitched where it pressed into Derek's stomach as Derek slid one finger lazily in and out of him. "I forgot how much you always liked to use your fingers first."

"It's called consideration," Derek reminded him dryly. "It would have hurt you if I hadn't bothered to get you stretched out first."

Stiles wiggled in his lap, shifting their cocks back and forth against each other. "I don't know, I think I would have handled it just fine," he mused.

"We're not going to find out now," Derek murmured, a second finger joining the first and easing in, then drawing back out. Stiles could feel the arousal build exponentially, coiling in his belly and twisting its way up into his chest, threatening to grab him by the throat from the inside. His chest fluttered and his cock ached when Derek spread the two fingers, pulling gently at the edges of Stiles' hole and opening him up. He could feel a little spurt of precome dribble out of the head of his cock, slicking across Derek's stomach, and his vision swam. Derek hissed in a sharp breath. "I need to be inside you."

"Yes," Stiles agreed, nodding his head furiously. Derek shifted, his hips and thighs sliding further out on the couch so he could lean deeper into the back of it. His large, sure hands palmed Stiles' ass and lifted him, settling him directly over Derek's straining erection. He hesitated but Stiles took control and reached back to line him up, sinking down forcefully, feeling the delicious, achy stretch of muscles as his ass swallowed Derek's cock.

"I didn't ask if you wanted to use a condom," Derek realized, his tone apologetic, but Stiles cut him off with a firm shake of his head.

"I'm not worried about it," he insisted, rising slightly before easing back down, shaking with the feeling of having Derek Hale buried inside him once again. "I'm all about safe sex, but since you can't catch or transmit anything, bring on the bare-backing." He rolled his hips decisively, changing the angle, and both of their breaths caught, and both of them shuddered as Stiles leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Derek's.

For a few minutes it was gentle, easy. There was no sound but the intermingling of their breaths, an occasional moan, and the slick noises of Derek sliding in and out of him. He didn't even thrust, at first; he laid there and kept his hands on Stiles' hips, allowing him to rock forward and ease back and roll his hips and rise up on his knees and sink down, all at his own pace. Stiles could see the tension behind his eyes, could _feel_ what keeping control of his reactions was costing the wolf, and he loved him all the more for it.

Then came the moment when he couldn't continue the languid pace and he thrust his ass down sharply, meeting Derek's thighs with a soft slap of skin, and Derek's eyes popped open and he _growled._ His fingers bit into Stiles' ass and he pulled forward roughly as his hips pumped upward, burying himself deeper, harder, and Stiles' cock leaked all over his belly again. He'd always been an overproducer of precome and it had never failed to drive Derek a little mad. One hand slid to Stiles' hip, holding him steady as the fingers of the other hand swiped at his stomach, collecting the fluid and bringing it to his own lips.

"Jesus fuck, _Derek,_ " Stiles groaned, clenching down around the thick shaft that was currently trying to pound him into a boneless mess. His hands scrabbled to find purchase on the solid wall of muscles beneath them and his fingers twined in the wolf's chest hair, fingernails scraping over his nipples and there it was again, that vivid burst of blue and the rumbling growl that originated somewhere beneath Stiles' hands and climbed up out of Derek's throat. "I'm so fucking close!"

Derek slowed and Stiles whined, trying to bear down harder, grip tighter, something, _anything_ to keep from losing the bliss that had been at his fingertips and now felt as if it was slipping away forever. "You'll get it back," Derek promised, his voice a whisper as he pulled Stiles down to him, his lips ghosting over the younger man's temple. "I'm just not ready to come yet, and as soon as you do, I will, too."

"Selfish," he muttered, but he slowed the motion of his own hips until he was little more than a boat on calm waters, rolling forward and then easing back with the bare minimum of movement.

He took the time to get his breathing under control; now that he wasn't frantically chasing his orgasm, he could breathe a little more steadily, without the harsh gasping sound he'd begun to emit. He watched as Derek's chest stopped heaving, settling into a gentle rhythm of its own. His upper body dropped forward as Derek rose to meet it, cradling him close. "Would you mind indulging me in a fantasy I've had ever since I stepped foot in this place?" he asked softly, and Stiles nodded. He didn't even have to ask what it was because it didn't matter. He'd give Derek anything he wanted.

Grinning wickedly, Derek lifted Stiles until he slid out of him, rolling them so that Derek was braced above him, and then stepped back, standing beside the couch and holding his hand out. Stiles placed his hand in Derek's and allowed himself to be pulled up, not bothering to hide his confusion as Derek walked him backward, toward the wall of windows.

The sharp shock of cool glass at his back made him shiver, but he didn't hesitate to lift his arms and wind them around Derek's neck when the wolf dipped his head just enough to capture Stiles' mouth with his own. His hips pressed forward, trapping Stiles between them and the window, his cock nudging against Stiles' and reminding him of just exactly how close they'd been only a few minutes ago.

Derek's left arm wrapped around Stiles' waist and he lifted, pulling Stiles' feet off the ground and breathing in relief when Stiles got the hint. His legs twined around Derek's waist and once they were properly lined up Derek lunged forward, pinning Stiles' upper body to the glass with his chest and the thrust of his hips. The hand that wasn't curved around his waist was pressed hard into the window, just to the right of Stiles' ear, his knuckles turning white from the tension. Derek's hips rolled forward roughly, hitting that spot inside Stiles that turned him into jelly and would eventually make him come apart in Derek's arms.

While he rocked forward, pinning Stiles with every thrust, he nuzzled his way into the curve of the younger man's neck. He caressed the heated skin with his tongue, alternating with scraping his teeth over it and sucking hard. Stiles trembled in his grip, his head curling to the side so that Derek had easier access to his neck. The tendons stretched, swelling beneath the pale skin, and Derek gently closed his teeth over it and bit, and Stiles arched up and his cock pulsed where it was trapped between their stomachs.

"Dear God," he moaned, canting his hips up so Derek could stroke in deeper. "This is even better than I remembered."

Derek laughed against his neck. "We've both gotten older and better at this," he murmured, planting little kisses along the curve of thin, sensitive skin. Stiles whimpered and Derek nipped at the bite mark that was still wet from his lips, shining and bruised in the neon lights coming through the window. "And confidence is key."

"I'm confident," legs tightened, "you're going to make me," hips tilted, "come so hard," ass clenched, "I'll black out."

He reached in between them, gripping Stiles' cock and smoothing his thumb over the purple head that had a steady stream of clear fluid flowing out of it. "Challenge accepted," he teased, his eyes bright, and Stiles whimpered.

Their words ceased as Derek's ass tightened, pushing him up harder into Stiles, and his hands moved down to palm the younger man's ass. They slid down to his thighs, spreading him open wider, and Derek pressed forward, pistoning harder. "Fuck, Stiles," he ground out, sweat trickling from the damp black hairs at his temple. "God, I can't hold on anymore," and then Stiles reached up and licked at the salty trails, the tip of his tongue flickering over Derek's hair-covered skin, and he came with a surprised jerk, moaning while his hips stuttered with burst after burst of pleasure until he was drained, achy, and shuddering in completion.

When he came back to himself he realized Stiles was still desperately thrusting down, trying to achieve his own release, and Derek reached back in between them to wrap his hand around Stiles again. His fist tightened as he stroked upward roughly, twisting and sliding over the flushed head before pulling back down, and Stiles' hips jerked upward, chasing the orgasm that he was clearly close to. Derek continued to pump Stiles even as he leaned in to kiss him, the gesture brutally passionate instead of their previously tender embraces. Gleaming teeth sank into his bottom lip and tugged sharply; long fingers speared into Stiles' hair and cupped the back of his head, pulling him in tighter. Their tongues tangled, each of them trying to dominate until Stiles broke away, gasping, and then Derek nosed along his jaw until his reached his ear, biting into it deeply, and Stiles moaned, finally, _finally_ spilling himself all over Derek's hand and chest. His chest puffed up until he blew out an unsteady breath, his eyes closing through the aftershocks.

Derek stepped back, his softened cock slipping from Stiles' ass, and Stiles slid bonelessly down the glass wall. "Fucking hell, Derek," he breathed, running a shaky hand through his disheveled hair.

He chuckled weakly, sinking down beside Stiles. "That about sums it up," he agreed. He leaned against Stiles, their sweaty shoulders sliding slickly against each other. "Next time let's just stick to the bed. I'm old and I like to be able to collapse someplace soft, post-orgasm."

Stiles leaned back against the cool glass, which was steamed up from their activities. "When do you think that next time might be?" he teased. "Are you still afraid you're one-and-done for tonight?"

Derek pulled Stiles in to cuddle against his chest and felt a familiar stirring. "I think it's safe to say the bed will get some use before tomorrow."

Stiles grinned. "Good. I have a lot of plans for you, and eight and a half years of lost time to make up."


End file.
